Inspiration
by Meriatressia
Summary: A story set in the world of NIER. NIER, etc, belongs to who owns them. The two leads, etc, belong to me


2049/08/02

Dusk  
Ran B'ar'iuch L'es S*ian F'hoy(Sky Rain Spear Lightening Of The Burning Sun) (pronounced Rab Bar i uch Les Shan Foy) stood under the setting sun by the D'm'or*a'gh'res(Demon Joy)(pronounced De  
mor gre is) statue.  
The sun worried him. It had changed. I set at diferent times each night, and he had a terrible feeling that one day, it would never set again.  
It was a great work of art. It despicted two great dragons and many other dragons and beings and people would stand forever, it was that strong.  
Though it had been made to sit under, no one ever did. It scared you if you did. Like the force of a world was looking down on you, trying to draw you in. He wondered what forces were within and  
depicted by his great sculpture.  
It was possibley his greatest stood in the courtyard of the corporation he made it for. Their sign glowed with a neon glow over the large doorway to the lobby.  
He specialised in sculptures made from highly polished and strong metals, usually only used in construction of high tech buildings. His sculptures were all over the world, a lot in the area he lived, recently.  
He was not proud of who he did it for, but a artist has to take what they can get and the fee made sure he never had to work again if he did'nt want to. And there were worse companies to work for.  
He had made it for the De'fra*bres(Demon Fire) Corporation. The people who ran all the dark magic and dark matter research in that part of the world. One of the largest of the mysterious companies  
who were investigating the dark matter and inventing more and more scientific magic.

Tommorow he was going into the Gestalt programme. Red Eye and the Black Horde were getting closer to his area. More and more people were being infected and turning into red eyes.  
He could see the Wall of Jericho from were he was. Those poor people who were trapped behind that thing.  
He was a thin man of medium build, His hair was short and softly cut and medium brown with a blue and lime streak are the right front, his eyes were yellow and green and his skin was darkish and of a  
yellow hue.  
He wondered if his Replicant would look like him. He knew they did'nt look completely identical or have the same names all the time, diferent with each version.  
He saw a group of Replicants hauling a huge gun to the militery outpost set up to fight off the Black Horde if they came close. He knew the facility would be safe. A small, panicking part of him hoped it  
would be safe. He did'nt want to be attacked while in actual facility was underground, so even if the top building was destroyed, the important, underground part would be safe.  
They were slightly creepy. Well, any kind of cloning is creepy. But he should not be so harsh. It was'nt their fault they looked like other people.  
He hoped his replicant had a happy life.

3349/08/03

Dusk  
R'ans*cheuar Va'ld'inesz Kr'ai(Spear Of Moon Sun Fire Who Catches The Sun)(pronounced Ran seur Valdin esz Kr ai) wandered by his favourite haunts at the end of the sky was dusk, the sun,  
ever shining, a dull red, orange and a small crescent of yellow to it's left, behind clouds.  
He sighted one of his favourite sculptures.  
The Statue Of Demonic Happiness or to give it's true name, the D'm'or*a'gh'res.  
He wandered up to it. it always gave him a faint feeling of shame and unease, for some reason.  
He was a sculpter. He made sculptures of all kinds. He really wanted to make them from industriel metals and high tech materials. But that would require a trip to the Junk Heap or other industriel sites for  
metal and other he was not strong enough to fight robots and security for materials all the time. He was good with a rapier and longsword, and all kinds of weapons. But not good enough for  
regular trips to industriel sites.  
He had suddenly felt a chill go through him. Like something or someone awoke.  
His eye caught the ruins of buildings, pavement, stones, and the rusting and dirt encrusted plaque at the bottom of the statue. It was in a aincient language only a few understood.  
For some reason they caught his eye and at his heart more.  
A terrible feeling rose in him. A memory that was not his, of terrible pain, then sleep, then oblivion, then dreams of shining silver cities and carriages without horses, fast moving crates on rails, like on the  
many ruined bridges that dotted the land in varying degrees.  
Then it was gone, swallowed by something he detected before, a kind of black smothering of his senses and mind, that he and other people fought with all their might. Like programming, resurfacing,  
after being triggered by appearance in the most brilliant of them led many to suspect that it was a kind of failsafe to stop them gaining intelligence and will.  
He shook of the creeping fear and made to leave.  
He could'nt, he was being held.  
A spectral black form was holding him, forcing him to turn to look at it. It was a shade or the projection of one, the floating, and walking if nessesery, kind with many long claws starting at the mid forarm  
that fired orbs or red and black magic.  
A black shining force overwhelmed his mind. He fought it. He looked closer, terror forming in his mind as the face seemed familer, like looking in a mirror.  
Then with a bang and a pain in his entire body, mostly where it gripped him, it was gone.  
He staggered and nearly sat on the sculpture, but drew back at the last moment. It was considered wrong to sit on the sculpture by most people. Fine to look at, but to sit on, he never liked sitting  
on scared him.  
He sat on the a large broken stone. for a while, that was strange what just happened.

He walked as quickly as he could back home to R'ian's'ch*i(Ranseur Of Doom), his village.

3349/09/01

Dusk  
R'ans*cheuar wandered by his favourite haunts, after recovering his nerve after the incident last time.  
He wandered up to the D'm'or*a'gh'res. The thought of the scary incident with the shade spectre chilled him to the bone. But not completely. In part of him, he felt he knew them. And that scared him more.  
He looked at the sculpture and thought of all the other similer sculptures in the area. They were all over the world. But there were a lot in this area, the highest concentration of the around.  
They said the sculpter had be a genius, and a prophet and oracle, seeing other worlds and possibley the cause of some of the things that caused the apocolypse that sank a large part of the lands into  
the sea.  
This was the biggest and greatest sculpture in the area, said to be the best of the artists work.  
'I am so proud...but slightly ashamed of who I did it for...'  
What the fuck was that thought?!  
It felt...almost, like his own...but not quite.

He shuddered and, to distract himself, and from curiosity, he tried to clear the plaque on the statue.  
Over 1300 years of dirt and rust encrusted it. He cleared part of it. It was a b and a partially covered description of the scene, in aincient language, that he suddenly had a greater apptitude in reading.  
That chilled him.

He cleared as much as he could, before a creeping dread overwhelmed him. He left shuddering, with odd thoughts creeping into his mind, thoughts that were only partially or not his own.

He saw black shapes flit out of the darkness out of the corners of his eyes as he left. He drew his rapier and prepared for a fight. He ran away as fast as he could when no attack came.

3349/09/03

Dusk  
He had trouble sleeping since the last encounter by the statue. But absinth helped.  
He came back to the sculpture. It was preying on his mind. He wanted, nearly needed, to know what was under that plaque.  
He cleared more of the dirt and rust away. It was a discription of the the scene and the company who had commissoned it, the language was hard to understand.  
So far, so expected.  
But he knew, something else was under that plaque, maybe a name.  
He took out the safe cleaner that his restorer friend had given him and got to work. More came away than with just scraping, but not a lot more. Over a 1000 years of dirt and rust would not come away in  
10 minutes.

His attention was mostly on the plaque when he heard scruffling and giggling behind him and to his left.  
He carefully put the cleaning tools and cleaner down, and very carefully turned and backed into the statues shadow.  
Fortunately the area was in shadow and clouds covered the sun.  
He held his breath as many small shades of all types came up the path to the area.  
He feared they would attack, but, instead they either ignored him or did not know he was there. He suspected they knew.  
They began playing, taking aincient things from their , strange things.  
They concentrated on things like aincient, damaged books, broken or dented or twisted jewelery, toys.  
They liked the toys. Were they children?  
He waited as long as he could, but when he could stand no longer, charming as the playing was, he grabbed the cleaning tools and cleaner, making sure the acerbic clear lid was tightly on as possible,  
put them away. He drew his rapier as quietly as possible.  
He sneaked past as fast as possible, but a foot away he was spotted, or more likely, noticed. Many glowing red eyes turned to look at him at once.  
He froze, trying not to panic them. Small shades could be very nasty when in a group.  
They seemed to consider attacking, then went back to their games.  
He thought he was nearly to safety.  
Then a step from saftey and a very fast bolt home, they came at him.  
But they did'nt attack.  
Instead they touched him, hugged him sometimes, talked to him.  
He tried not to panick. He relaxed a little when he realized they were'nt going to attack him.  
They offered him toys, jewelery, strange items. He spent over half a hour playing with the shades. Marveling at the aincient items.  
It got a bit dicey when the lid came loose on the cleaner and spilled onto the ground and started burning it. He very quickly calmed them down and jammed the now properly sealed cleaner into his belt  
pouch.  
If it had gone bad, he would'nt have wanted to kill them, though he could have, with ease.  
The darkness was becoming dangerous now, he would'nt make it back without being attacked if he left it later.  
With dificulty he told the shades he had to go. They seemed upset at his leaving.  
He said he would return. He would try his best to. After a while they accepted it.  
As he said his goodbyes, a female mage called V'ren(Vren Star Diagram) gave him a broken earring. She and her mage brother Gdade(Emerald Eye Flicker)(pronounced Gade) said it was their  
mothers. He heard the words, in his language, but a older form, 'mother' and 'my mothers', amid the shade language.  
He left, waving goodbye till they were out of sight.  
He pondered the words amid the shade language.  
What were the shades to them?  
He got the feeling he was being watched, from far away, for most of the time.

3349/09/07

Dusk  
For 3 days after a terrible darkness had covered the lands, night was dangeorusly dark, far earlier than normal. He had had to stay inside, no wanderings for him.  
Dark things wandered in the night and darkness.  
He wondered how the small shades were doing.  
He went to the sculpture.  
No group of playing shades. Just one, a older male warrior mage called *'Val'sco(Star Void) who said somthing in a tearful voice about monsters and 'things gone wrong', and 'all gone, safe in  
darkness'.He hugged him tearfully and then left.  
R'ans*cheuar wondered what happened to the group. What happened to the V'ren and Gdade who gave him the broken earring. He had embedded the broken earring in his belt, to keep it with him at  
all times.  
He hoped they were all ok.

He looked at the sculpture. He did'nt feel so bothered about cleaning the plaque tonight.  
He thought about the rumours of the Shadowlord, the leader of the were some shades like people, and some like ravening monsters?  
The Shadowlord was supposed to be a absolutely relentless person who would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.  
Not the sort of foe you would want to face.  
People said his latest work had a 'aincient' feel, lately. Which was odd, because he was doing more modern subjects.  
He cleaned the plaque a bit, but gave up.  
He explored the ruined buildings. He looked at the slightly glowing sign above the large broken doorway. He could'nt read it well, but it looked like the same name as on the was not much  
left, but more than some places. He came upon a rusted and corroded hyberbaric titanium steel hatch in the ground. It was broken and melted slightly. Not possible to open. It had a ominous feel to it.  
Like the closing of one door and the start of a chapter. A chill overcame him. Another of those memories that were not his.  
He resolved to stop drinking the absinth. Better let the nightmares and scary memories that were not his run, than become alchoholic. It had done it's job in calming him down.  
As he was thinking of leaving he noticed a aincient small worn bag on the floor. He went over to it. It belonged to a female shade warrior called 'Ven'i (Life Bow). He moved it out of the way so it would not  
get trampled and lost if they came back for it.  
He felt suddenly sad and a strange mix of emotions that were not his own.

As he left he heard and saw shade ghosts playing in front of the statue. He hoped that meant that they were running as normal or being triggered by something and that they were'nt dead, and their  
deaths had triggered the ghost recording.  
Chilled by more than the night air he left, hoping his friends were safe.

The feeling of being watched was closer this time. And the start of a terrible rage.

3349/09/09

Early Dusk  
He came back for two days. He got the plaque clean on the second day.  
He was chilled when he uncovered it all. It had a name. Ran B'ar'iuch L'es S*ian F'hoy.  
Who was this. Must be the artist. The records were old and decayed and many things were lost unless you could get into aincient data banks.  
This would go far in making sure the man who made all those famous statues was properly credited.  
This felt so familer.  
The feeling of being watched was growing.  
On the first day he saw a dark figure like the spectre shade flit into the shadows, close to him.  
On the second day, the figure was more in the open, more bold. It scared him.

3349/09/11

Dusk  
He wandered up to the statue later than normal. He was procupied. Something was preying on his mind.  
Strange, shade like dreams flitted through his mind, when he was awake now.  
He dreamed of cities of silver and metal and horseless carts, and riding in fast crates that traveled on rails.  
It disturbed him.  
He wandered up to the front of the statue.  
He had been waylaid by insane shades being fought off by a caravan.  
He thought about the recent rumours about the Shadowlords recent raids. They described a relentless male who stopped at absolutely nothing. The reminded him of someone.  
A man from a nearby village, Nier. He had spoken to him briefly. He was a big, powerful, male who seemed a good friend but a terrible foe.  
"What if that's like me..." Damn! Those strange thoughts again!  
He brushed his soft, shoulderlength light brown hair, with the jade and lime streak on the front left, out of his yellow and marine eyes as the clouds uncovered the sun a skin was darkish and  
hispanic looking.  
The sun was unusually bright this evening.  
He froze as he heard a sound. A shade.  
The shade from the incident walked into the light. It was really there this time.  
He drew his longsword and dagger.  
The shade walked forward. It was looking at the statue, much in the way he did.  
He tried to speak, but something terrible welled from his soul, stopped him. It was like looking a a mirror.  
Then the seemingly sane shade did something only insane shades did. It laughed uncontrollabley and assummed battle posture. But he did'nt attack.  
He walked closer, R'ans*cheuar raised his sword and dagger higher.  
He froze, seemingly breaking from hiss insanity. He looked at the statue.  
"I was so...proud of that...", then he snarled and screamed in shade language.  
R'ans*cheuar backed off, his weapons in defence. The shade laughed a terrible, semi insane laugh and stepped forward a little.  
The shade froze by the plaque, looked at the name and backed off. It cowered slightly.  
R'ans*cheuar had a terrible spark of a idea. He guardedly walked forward, weapons drawn. He point at the plaque with his dagger.  
"Is that you?"  
The shade shuddered, then looked at him. It took in every aspect of his appearance.  
It was starting to scare him how strange and closely it looked at him.  
After a long moment it said  
"Yessssssss" then it shuddered, looked at the plaque, then at him, then it gestured to itself.  
A terror gripped R'ans*cheuars heart. A terror too terrifying to comprehend fully.  
"This is me, this is him, this is me, oh gods, what is this!"  
The blackness came back, promising oblivion. He did not succumb, though this terrible knowledge was the sort he wanted to forget.  
Then they connected, and he knew, he was not meant to live this life. He saw a terrible oblivion, where he died, the shade lived, he lived, but not as himself R'ans*cheuar.  
"Nooooo! I won't let you!" He backed off to within striking distance.  
The shade paused, having more sane thoughts than it had in a while, since it started to go gestalt.  
"This is me, but its' not me, I'm me! This man is a sculpter, he is a great artist...he wants to work with high tech materials and metals, like I did..."  
The existance of the mans soul and aspirations and wishes, made the shade pause in the programming that would have united him with the replicant.  
I should'nt judge replicants harshly...It's not...their fault they...look like other...people...  
"It's not fair!' he said in shade language. I won't do it!"  
But I have to...don't I?  
NO! There is still time! I must leave, before something bad happens.  
R'ans*cheuar got his weapons ready to attack, though he figured attacking someone who is basically yourself and your original would seriously hurt. And not be a good idea.  
The gestalt came back in Ran B'ar'iuch then, but not before he determinadely turned away from R'ans*cheuar, and said,  
"I will be back"  
R'ans*cheuar flinched and raised his weapons.  
"But not to kill you, not yet...not unless I absolutely have to..."  
R'ans*cheuar gripped his weapons, feeling some relief.  
Ran B'ar'iuch turned to walk away, then turned round, nearly sane.  
"The inspiration for your latest work, try the Rin'oau'i's(Silver Black Horse Crow) (pronounced rin we is) region, look in the air and sky, it always worked for me..."  
"Thank you..."  
Ran B'ar'iuch left, into the new world, to see all the new sights and things, and the old, aincient, and ruined.  
R'ans*cheuar stood for a long time, by the D'm'or*a'gh'res, his weapons clutched loosely in his hands, trying to comprehend what just happened, and what it meant for the rest of the world.

2247/08/17

R'ans*cheuars latest sculpture, using many high quality and high tech metals and materials taken from industrial sites and the Junk Heap, was a huge success.  
The critics said it was a work of aincient genius, so old, yet new.  
When asked what inspired him, he said the air, the sky the Rin'oau'i's(Silver Black Horse Crow) region. Now known as Vr'i*on'e'ttes( Black Horse Flight).


End file.
